by Roger Hurn
Something Wicked
This Way Comes
Roger Hurn
© Roger Hurn 2012
Cover Design © 2012 Kat Squire
Roger Hurn and Kat Squire have asserted their rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author and designer of this work.
First published 2012 by Endeavour Press Ltd.
To all those who believed in this story - and in my ability to tell it.
***
Contents
The Legend of the Piper of Francheville
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen.
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Books by Roger Hurn
The Legend of the Piper of Francheville
In the year 1377, Francheville, on the Isle of Wight, was overrun with rats. The townspeople had no idea how to rid themselves of these pests. Then, one day a stranger appeared. There was something sinister about him. His face was handsome yet his eyes were cold like the eyes of a bird of prey. He seemed to glide rather than walk and a mocking smile played about his fleshy lips as he listened to the townsfolk’s tale of woe. They didn’t like it when he boasted that he could solve their ratty predicament - but only if they paid him 50 gold pieces.
They grumbled that his price was far too high but the stranger only shrugged. ‘So learn to live with the rats,’ he sneered. The townsfolk knew they had no choice but to hire the arrogant wretch. ‘Fix the problem and the gold is yours,’ they said - though in their hearts they had no intention of honouring a deal made with such a haughty braggart.
The stranger pulled a flute from inside his coat and began to play. A shrill squeaking sound filled the air. The townsfolk clapped their hands over their ears to block out the dreadful noise. But rats of all shapes and sizes came scrabbling and scuttling towards the Piper and made a squirming carpet of fur at his feet. He skipped away and led them up Silver Street and down Gold Street to the harbour. The townsfolk followed to see what he would do next.
When the stranger reached the water's edge he stepped into a small boat and cast off into deep water. The rats dived into the sea and swam after him. The stranger threw the anchor over the side but still kept on playing. The rats wriggled their tails in delight and swam round and round the boat. Slowly the tide went out leaving the boat and the rats stuck fast on the mud. Then, with a glug and a gurgle, the slimy sinking mud swallowed every last rat.
The tide turned, the sea came rushing in and the little boat floated back to the harbour. The stranger stepped ashore and held his hand out for his gold. But the Townsfolk stared at him with stony faces. They told him he should have taken the money before he drowned the rats. The stranger argued but his words fell on deaf ears. The townspeople refused to budge. They dared him to do his worst. The stranger smiled but his eyes glittered like two chips of green ice. A shadow passed over the sun and the people all felt fear creep down their spines like a spider. They had a sick feeling that something really bad was about to happen and there was nothing they could do to stop it.
The stranger put the flute to his lips and began to play. This time the air was filled not with screeching but with notes of laughter and joy. Children came running to the stranger while the adults found they couldn’t move. Their hearts were filled with horror as the stranger led the dancing children out of Francheville and into the woods where they were soon lost to sight.
At last the music faded and the spell lifted. The townsfolk raced to the forest where they searched frantically for their children. But their efforts were in vain for the children and the Piper had vanished, never to be seen by the people of Francheville again.
***
Chapter One
‘I really wish you’d give it a rest, Lizzie.’ Ritchie stopped and spun round to glare at his younger sister. They were in the middle of Piper’s Wood making a spectacularly unsuccessful attempt to find and photograph a red squirrel for Lizzie’s school project. It was hot, clammy and dank beneath the trees. And, unlike the tiny biting insects who were treating his pale skin as a happy meal, the red squirrels were stubbornly refusing to put in an appearance. The last thing Ritchie needed was a wind up from his sister.
‘There’s nobody hiding in the bushes spying on us and even if they were they wouldn’t be dressed like something out of Robin Hood.’
Lizzie raised her eyebrows. ‘OK, Mr Know-It-All. So who’s that standing behind you then?’
‘Oh that’s so funny,’ snapped Ritchie. ‘Like I’m really going to spin round just so you can laugh at me. I don’t think so.’
He pulled a face at Lizzie then turned away from her. He stopped short and did a double take. Standing on the narrow, bramble strewn path were a very grubby boy and girl wearing what seemed to be medieval peasants’ costumes.
‘Told you,’ said Lizzie. ‘But, as usual, you wouldn’t listen.’
The boy and girl shot baffled looks at each other then the boy spoke.
‘What’s he saying?’ said Ritchie staring at the boy.
‘No idea,’ replied Lizzie. ‘Maybe they’re asylum seekers or something.’
The two strangers exchanged frightened glances and the girl muttered something to the boy. He nodded and tried again. His voice trembled and faded away when his efforts were met with blank looks from both Lizzie and Ritchie.
‘They’re definitely foreign,’ said Ritchie. ‘Most probably from Eastern Europe or somewhere.’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘Not dressed like that they’re not. People from Eastern Europe wear modern clothes not woolly tights and long smocks. These two look like they’re extras from a movie about knights in armour.’
Ritchie was about to argue then he snapped his fingers. He beamed at the couple in front of him. ‘Got it. I guess you guys are practising for the Newtown Randy. You know, the big festival with a carnival and actors and stuff. They do a re-enactment of the Piper of Newtown legend. You’re playing the part of the kids who get stolen by the Piper, right?’
He looked at the boy and girl expectantly.
‘Newtown Randy?’ said the boy in an accent as rich and thick as clotted cream. He sounded puzzled.
‘Yeah, that’s it,’ said Ritchie. ‘Though I reckon you two should complain about the costumes they’ve given you. I mean I’m all for looking the part but they really stink.’
&n
bsp; Instead of answering him the boy and girl launched into a babble of talk that left Ritchie scratching his head.
‘Forsooth, I fear we art still in the fey kingdom. How else to con this babbling ninny’s skimble-scamble?’
‘Nay, methinks these two are no madcap sprites. ‘Tis we who are still fortune’s fools. There is some hugger mugger afoot here, brother. So, heed me well, and make no prabble, then perchance we may unravel this conundrum without further ado.’
Lizzie tugged at Ritchie’s sleeve.
‘Are you sure they’re actors?’
‘Of course I’m sure. They’re obviously part of some arty-farty performance theatre group who’ve come over from France on the ferry for the carnival.’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘Then why are they speaking English?’
‘That’s not English that’s …’
‘It is. It’s English like people spoke hundreds of years ago.’ Lizzie was adamant. ‘I saw this old black and white film of a Shakespeare play on telly once and it was full of words like that. I mean, all right, so these kids have got funny accents as well but, if you listen carefully, you can just make sense of what they’re saying.’
‘Rubbish.’
‘It’s not rubbish. I’ve got a good ear for sounds that’s why I can play music and you can’t. You’ve got an ear like a foot!’
Ritchie’s cheeks coloured up and he looked as if he was about to thump his sister but she ignored him and stepped closer to the boy and girl. She pointed to herself. ‘Lizzie,’ she said. Next she pointed to Ritchie and said his name. Finally she pointed at the two children. ‘What are your names?’
Looks of relief flooded across the strangers’ faces and they smiled and nodded frantically at her.
‘Will’, replied the boy.
‘Alice,’ said the girl. Then, after a slight hesitation, she spoke some more.
‘What did she say?’ asked Ritchie.
‘Shut up and listen you muppet,’ said Lizzie. ‘It’s not easy, but you can understand if you really concentrate.’
Lizzie grinned at the girl. ‘Sorry about him,’ she said. ‘My brother’s a bit addled pated.’
‘What’s that mean?’ demanded Ritchie.
‘Thick as a brick,’ she muttered as she looked encouragingly at Alice.
‘Sooth, methinks oftentimes Will is vexed with the same affliction,’ agreed Alice in the same weird accent as her brother. For a moment her troubled expression was softened by a smile and she winked at Lizzie. Then a shadow of fear passed over her face and the smile was snuffed out. She swallowed hard then continued.
‘My brother and I dwell in Francheville. Our town was afflicted by a bothersome plague of rats and we despaired of ever ridding ourselves of these vile beasts.’
The boy called Will was fidgeting nervously. He kept looking back over his shoulder as if terrified that someone was about to creep up on him. Then suddenly he began to talk at the same time as his sister. This certainly didn’t make the children any easier to understand so Lizzie covered her ears and shook her head. Alice grimaced and fell silent. Her brother nodded conspiratorially at Ritchie.
‘God’s teeth, I say fie to a woman’s prattling tongue. Let the man speak and the maid be still. Dost thou not agree?’
Ritchie sensed that Will was attempting some kind of male bonding but he wasn’t prepared to go along with it. To his way of thinking the last thing he needed was to get involved with some weirdo child actor trying to act macho in front of a couple of girls. ‘I haven’t got a clue what you’re on about, mate,’ he said.
Will scowled at the rebuff but continued.
‘Truly, the folk of our town were in disarray but then an eldritch knave came amongst us. By the power of his enchanted flute he spirited the rats away. ‘Twas a trick done well but it had an evil outcome. When the masters of the town denied him his payment the craven churl uttered vile oaths. Then he conjured more enchantment and took us, and all the other children of Francheville, away to the land of faery.’
Ritchie raised his eyebrows sceptically. ‘Oh yeah, right. The ‘Land of Faery’, eh? You guys are good, I’ll give you that. You can walk the walk and talk the talk. Only I’m not fooled – OK? No way did you really meet up with the Pied Piper. So why don’t you just come clean and admit you’re a couple of actors having a laugh?’
The boy glowered. ‘Verily, thou art a muzzle-eared dunce. Odd’s bodykins, we are no strolling players and I knowest not the identity of the surly coxcomb you call the Pied Piper. I only con that he who magicked us from our home was a foul fly bitten mammering canker.’
Will shuddered and glanced over his should again. His face was pinched with worry and he lapsed into a brooding silence.
Ritchie was a bit taken aback by the anger in the boy’s voice. He was also fairly sure Will had insulted him. He clenched his fists and scowled. He was bigger and heavier than the other lad but somehow Ritchie didn’t fancy tangling with him. There’s definitely something not quite right about you, mate, thought Ritchie to himself. You’d probably bite me and give me rabies.
Meanwhile, Alice looked anxiously from Ritchie to Lizzie. She flicked her tongue over her dry lips and forced herself to speak.
‘Forgive my brother. He means no offence. His humours have been much distempered by our ordeal.’
She smiled brightly but Lizzie couldn’t help but notice that Alice’s teeth were discoloured and in poor condition. Yeuck! This kid’s never been to a dentist in her life, thought Lizzie. But how likely is that if she’s a budding actress? Lizzie smiled back, the sun glinting off her braces.
The sight of all that dental metal work seemed to be as shocking to Alice as her own decaying teeth were to Lizzie. She gulped and quickly made the sign of the cross. Then, keeping a very wary eye on Lizzie’s mouth, she continued.
‘You speak of a Pied Piper. Perchance ‘twas he who vexed us but, whatever the wicked wights’s name, we have slipped his net and must now return home. But this part of the forest is passing strange to us. So, prithee tell me, whither lies Francheville?’
The barely controlled desperation in Alice’s voice hit Lizzie hard. Alice wasn’t acting. Lizzie was sure of that. She could smell the acrid waves of panic that emanated from her. Hardly daring to admit it even to herself, Lizzie half turned to her brother and muttered, ‘Ritchie, I really think that these two kids are in some kind of serious trouble. Is there any way they could be who they say they are?’
Ritchie snorted dismissively. ‘Don’t talk daft. They’re just trying to wind us up.’ But in truth he had an uneasy feeling that he and Lizzie had stumbled across something that was beyond his ability to explain.
He tried to stifle his rising disquiet by telling himself that Lizzie was always making a big deal out of nothing. In fact, it drove him mad when their mum told everyone that Lizzie was ‘the creative one’ because, as far as he was concerned, Lizzie was just one big drama queen. And anyway, what was so wrong with being down-to-earth and sensible? It didn’t mean he was dull - no matter what Lizzie said. No, this time Ritchie was determined he wasn’t going to get sucked into any of Lizzie’s fantasies – or into whatever nasty game these two strange kids were playing.
‘All that Pied Piper stuff’s just a stupid legend,’ he said. ‘These kids are our age. If they lived back then they’d have to be hundreds of years old by now.’
Then another thought struck Ritchie and he stabbed his finger at Will and Alice. ‘Anyway, you guys have got your facts wrong. The Piper stole the kids from Newtown – not Francheville.’
Ritchie felt sure that this was the clinching argument but one look at his sister was enough to convince him he’d missed something. She had an exasperated expression on her face - an expression he’d never found attractive when directed at him.
‘Duh! That’s what Newtown was called back then, you dummy. Look, maybe I’m totally off base here but, if you look at the facts, it’s all starting to add up.’ Lizzie began counting them off on her f
ingers.
‘One: Will and Alice haven’t got a clue where they are. Two: they speak like people did back in medieval times, and three: they obviously haven’t washed in months.’
Ritchie shrugged. ‘Well, they certainly stink, but that doesn’t make them medieval - just pretty disgusting.’
Lizzie shook her head. ‘No, it’s more than that. Everything about these kids is really different from us. And look at them, Ritchie, they’re scared stiff.’
Reluctantly, Ritchie did so. Will’s pale face was knotted with fear while Alice’s eyes were haunted and wild and she was twisting her hands together compulsively. Despite himself, Ritchie had to admit that whoever or whatever these two children were, their terror was real.
But before he could say anything, Will spoke up.
‘I’faith, you prattle like crack hemps! Do as my sister asks and show us the path to Francheville. For we are pursued by a darkling and can dally no more.’
Will was trying hard to sound firm and decisive but his voice trembled and gave him away. He grabbed Alice’s hand and the two children stared imploringly at Lizzie and Ritchie.
Lizzie stepped forward. Both Will and Alice flinched and looked ready to run. Lizzie held her hands up palms out in a calming gesture. ‘Hey, it’s OK. I’m not going to hurt you, but I am going to ask you a question and you must swear on this little bible that you will give me a truthful answer.’ She reached into her bag and pulled out her small black diary.
‘Duh, Lizzie, that’s a …’
Lizzie silenced Ritchie with a slight shake of her head. She knew it wasn’t a bible but Lizzie had a feeling that, if Will and Alice really were who they claimed to be, they wouldn’t. After all, in the 14th century hardly anybody knew how to read.
Alice and Will stared at her and at the diary, their eyes wide open and sharp with apprehension. Then Will spoke. ‘By my trowth, as Goddes wills so shall I answer.’ He reached out his hand and touched the book.
Lizzie took a deep breath. ‘All right then. Will, do you have any idea what year this is?’
